Thanksgiving-day, I fear,
If one the solemn truth must touch,
Is celebrated, not so much
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Thanksgiving-day, I fear,
If one the solemn truth must touch,
Is celebrated, not so much
To thank the Lord for blessing o'er,
As for the sake of getting more!

And taught by thee the Church prolongs
Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.

And taught by thee the Church prolongs
Her hymns of high thanksgiving still.

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden read more

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain!

Great as the preparations were for the dinner, everything was so
contrived that not a soul in the house read more

Great as the preparations were for the dinner, everything was so
contrived that not a soul in the house should be kept from the
morning service of Thanksgiving in the church.

Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest,
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Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,
From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest,
When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board
The old broken links of affection restored,
When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,
And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before.
What moistens the lips and what brightens the eye?
What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie?